Harry Potter and The Boy With The Golden Eyes
by shakespeareunderstarlight
Summary: This is my first story so please be gentle (but all feed back is appreciated). This story will follow the same story line as the Harry Potter series, starting from book 4. But it'll be with the addition of my own character Tiberius Irving, who i hope doesn't seem totally out of place and is as enjoyable and likable as the other characters in this amazing universe :)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1, The Arrival

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it." Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop. "Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a mouldy-looking old boot in his other hand. "This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all. Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year. "Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked. "Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Excuse me" just then three figures walked out of the woods behind the Diggory's. They appeared as three young men one look around Fred and George's age another Percy's and the last looked the oldest by a few years. "Just wondering do you have the portkey" the youngest said as he flashed a small smile as he placed his rucksack on the ground. "Yes, got it right here" said Amos Diggory with a cheerful tone.

Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?" "Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend -" "Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?" "Er - yeah," said Harry. Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it always made him feel uncomfortable.

"Take a picture it'll last longer" suddenly the youngest of the new arrivals snorted at the elder of the Diggory's. "Excuse me!" Amos said caught slightly off guard. "You heard me" he responded with the same happy tone as he walked past the Diggory's. "Irving, nice to finally meet you, we all owe you a great debt." The youngest stretched an open had to Harry. Harry cautiously took the hand and noticed that he kept constant eye contact. Harry wasn't sure if this was to show courtesy or to intimidate, but if it was the latter his eyes certainly did the trick. Harry was entranced by these hypnotic golden orbs staring back at him.

"These are Alexander and Octavian my older brothers. And they are…" Harry was suddenly snapped back to reality. "Oh this is Ron, Fred, George and Ginny, there farther Arthur and Hermione Granger" Harry quickly stammered out. Irving walked past him toward Hermione and Ginny and with a kiss placed on each hand he said "It's always a pleasure to meet such beautiful creatures" causing the entirety of the party to turn scarlet, though some for different reasons than others.

"Must be nearly time," coughed Mr. Weasley with a slight glare at Irving. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?" He said quickly, pulling out his watch again. "No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?" "Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off ... We'd better get ready..."

He looked around at Harry and Hermione. "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -" With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the twelve of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to Harry how odd this would look if a Muggles were to walk up here now ... twelve people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting...

"Three. . ." muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, two. . . one. . ." It happened immediately. Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his. They were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling colour, his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then -

His feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into him and he fell over, the Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud. Harry looked up. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground except Irving and his brothers.

Harry stood to see the three of them standing a few yards ahead with not but a hair out of place. Suddenly harry was taken of guard "Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2, Tents

Harry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his feet. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thighlength galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Harry could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football. "Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some... We've been here all night... You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite... Weasley ... Weasley..." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site managers called Mr. Roberts. Diggory ... second field ... ask for Mr. Payne. And Corbin …. Next to the Weasley's"

They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon. They said good-bye to the Diggory's and approached the cottage door. A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them. "Morning!" said Mr. Weasley brightly. "Morning," said the Muggle. "Would you be Mr. Roberts?" "Aye, I would," said Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?" "Weasley - two tents, booked a couple of days ago?" "Aye," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?" "That's it," said Mr. Weasley.

"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr. Roberts.

"Ah - right - certainly -" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him. "Help me, Harry," he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. "This one's a - a - a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now... So this is a five?" "A twenty," Harry corrected him in an undertone, uncomfortably aware of Mr. Roberts trying to catch every word.

"Here this will be more than enough for both keep the change." Suddenly distracting everyone from Mr. Weasley's money troubles was the sight of Irving passing a clip of £50 notes to Mr Roberts. "That's really not necessary" said Mr. Weasley quite taken back. "Don't mention it." responded Irving. "We're neighbours. Oh and here's a map" he finished with a smile.

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain. "Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us." They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult... Muggles do it all the time... Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?" Harry had never been camping in his life; the Dursleys had never taken him on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave him with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbour. Unfortunately just as Harry and Hermione were making progress on the first tent there was a sudden "CRACK!" A red faced Mr. Weasley had somehow managed to snap a number of the poles for the other tent. "You guys want to borrow a tent? We have a spare." said a cheerful Irving walking over. "Thank you so much that would be wonderful" quickly responded Hermione with a blush. "On one condition you let me help you put it up" said Irving with a smirk. Not long after there were an erect pair of two-man tents sanding next two three one-manner's in the clearing.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3, A Band of Brothers

All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards, Harry thought, but the trouble was that once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, they would be a party of ten. Hermione seemed to have spotted this problem too; she gave Harry a quizzical look as Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg's house: There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

"Well, it's not for long," said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water...

"There's a tap marked on this map," said Ron, who had followed Harry inside the tent and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions. "It's on the other side of the field." "Well, why don't you, Harry, and Hermione go and get us some water then" - Mr.

Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans - "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

"But we've got an oven," said Ron. "Why can't we just -"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', though without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. Harry noticed that the three brothers were nowhere to be seen. "Hey where did the three brothers go?" he asked Ron. "Who cares, the less we see of them the better." Spat Ron not noticing the appalled look on Hermione's face. Just as Hermione was about to scold Ron but was cut off by the sound of guitars playing in the distance. "Come on you two, I want to find out where that music's coming from" said Hermione grabbing each of the boy's by the arm leading them towards the sound.

Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; Harry had never seen witches and wizards this young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't - touch - Daddy's - wand - yecchh! "

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Ron, and Hermione he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -"

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. Harry caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Ron. It wasn't just Ron's eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.

"Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colours?" said Mrs. Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione beadily. When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Ron said, "Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot." I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said Hermione.

"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents up field where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," said Ron quietly. "What?" said Hermione. "Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!" "He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

"'Really grumpy?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."

"He still couldn't charm his way out of a wet paper bag though!" Suddenly the trio turned around to see the familiar smirk of one Tiberius Corbin. "What are you doing here, and how would you know" snorted Ron. "Firstly, I'm here to get water" says Tiberius. "And secondly t need a distraction from those two" he said pointing at two men having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious -

I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles, only to have them burst into a hysterical laugh after Irving said "I don't know I think it makes him look quit fetching, the colour really brings out his eyes."

"And Krum may have some talent on a broom, but anyone can see he's near brain dead in front of anything other than a snitch." Said Irving after Hermione regained her composure.

"Anyway, I've got fire wood to gather, so best be off." Irving smiles at Hermione and winked at her as he threw a piece of paper into the air. Transforming into an Origami Crane it flew into Hermione's hand and when she looked up the three brothers were gone.

"What does it say?" asked Harry. "I don't know because I haven't opened it have I." Hermione said with an exhausted expression. She unfolded the bird and inside it read…

_See you tonight? _

_- Irving._

"…Creepy…" said Ron, to break the silence.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4, Good Odds

Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry's House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents' tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team. Next they were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back. More to stop Ron from smirking than anything, Harry hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.

"Who d'you reckon they are?" he said. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?" "'Spect they go to some foreign school," said Ron. "I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil... this was years and years ago... and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."

Harry laughed but didn't voice the amazement he felt at hearing about other wizarding schools. He supposed, now that he saw representatives of so many nationalities in the campsite, that he had been stupid never to realize that Hogwarts couldn't be the only one. He glanced at Hermione, who looked utterly unsurprised by the information. No doubt she had run across the news about other wizarding schools in some book or other.

"Then where do you think Irving and his brothers go?" asked Harry. "Who the bloody hell cares" Ron retorted immediately. Hermione shook her head "they didn't seem foreign but I don't know of any other schools in Britain. But her train of thought was cut off by George.

"You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys' tents. "Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You've not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred. Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life. "Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.

At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office... Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now... Hello, Arnie ... Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know... and that's Bode and Croaker ... they're Unspeakables..."

"They're what?"

"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to..."

"Why are they talking to the brothers?" asked Harry.

And so they were, both Bode and Croaker were in some form of heated discussion with Irving and his Brother Alexander while the oldest made some half-hearted effort to calm them down. The discussion became more ridged when Bode said something about "not being able to keep secrets forever".

Suddenly the nearest fireplace ignited with flames nearly 7 feet tall. "Is that a threat" bellowed Irving with a dark stare. While it seemed the oldest was no longer playing peace keeper either. With all three wearing icy stares. Bode and Croaker placed their hands on their wands. But apparently thought better of it and walked away.

Arthur as just about to go and question the brothers when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.

"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"

They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement. "Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming ... and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements... Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter." Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead. "Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match." "Oh ... go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see ... a Galleon on Ireland to win?" "A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well ... any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -" "We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"I'll kick in 50 Galleons with them and I'll take a fake wand" they all turned to see a once again smiling Irving with an outstretched hand full of Galleons.

"Wonderful… and you are" beamed Bagman. "Irving sir, Irving Corbin" said Irving.

"Boys," said Mr. Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting... That's all your savings... Your mother -" 

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance... I'll give you excellent odds on that one... We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."

Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5, Run

"Get up! Ron - Harry - come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit canvas.

"S' matter?" he said.

Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pyjamas, said, "No time, Harry - just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

Harry did as he was told and hurried out of the tent, Ron at his heels.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them. . . . They didn't seem to have faces. . . . Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick. . . ."

Hermione and Ginny came hurrying toward them, pulling coats over their nightdresses, with Mr. Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

Suddenly one of the hooded figures turned to harry and as he began to raise his wand he was stuck by a bolt of white light sending the hooded figure hurtling backwards. Harry turned to see Irving stride past him with his wand raised. Three more of the hooded figures turned to the sight of their fallen comrade. Irving turned to Harry and the others his golden eyes ablaze "Run!" he whispered and he turned to the hooded trio with a smirk on his face.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George followed. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the centre, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The coloured lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. Harry felt himself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces he could not see. Then he heard Ron yell with pain.

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid - lumos!"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harry knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly. "Granger, they're after Muggles, "said Malfoy." D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around. . . they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.

"Have it your own way, Potter," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron. Everybody present knew that "Mudblood" was a very offensive term for a witch or wizard of Muggle parentage.

"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy.

There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?"

"Where're your parents?" said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling.

"Well. . . if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"

"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and find the others."

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.

"Come on," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron up the path again.

"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" said Ron hotly.

"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. "Oh I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione's, and squinting up the path. Harry dug in the pockets of his jacket for his own wand - but it wasn't there. The only thing he could find was his Omnioculars.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it. . . I've lost my wand!"

"You're kidding!"

Ron and Hermione raised their wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light farther on the ground; Harry looked all around him, but his wand was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe it's back in the tent," said Ron.

"Maybe it fell out of your pocket when we were running?" Hermione suggested anxiously.

"Yeah," said Harry, "maybe. . . He usually kept his wand with him at all times in the wizarding world, and finding himself without it in the midst of a scene like this made him feel very vulnerable.

"Let's just keep moving, shall we?" said Ron, and Harry saw him glance edgily at Hermione. Perhaps there was truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps Hermione was in more danger than they were. They set off again, Harry still searching his pockets, even though he knew his wand wasn't there.

They followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny. They passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtedly won betting on the match, and who seemed quite unperturbed by the trouble at the campsite.

Harry looked around. "I reckon we can just wait here, you know. We'll hear anyone coming a mile off."

Ron took his small figure of Krum out of his pocket, set it down on the ground, and watched it walk around. Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered, much less impressive on his splayed feet than on his broomstick. Harry was listening for noise from the campsite. Everything seemed much quieter; perhaps the riot was over.

"I hope the others are okay," said Hermione after a while.

"They'll be fine," said Ron.

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron and watching the small figure of Krum slouching over the fallen leaves. "He's always said he'd like to get something on him."

"That'd wipe the smirk off old Draco's face, all right," said Ron.

"Those poor Muggles, though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," said Ron reassuringly. "They'll find a way."

"Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out here tonight!" said Hermione. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking, or are they just -"

But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder. Harry and Ron looked quickly around too. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward their clearing. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" called Harry.

There was silence. Harry got to his feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but he could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of his vision.

"Who's there?" he said.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Harry's eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the - ?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared.

For a split second, Harry thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then he realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. Harry didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now raised high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grisly neon sign. He scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but he couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" he called again.

"Harry, come on, move!" Hermione had seized the collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward.

"What's the matter?" Harry said, startled to see her face so white and terrified.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling him as hard as she could. "You-Know-Who's sign!"

"Voldemort's - "Harry, come on!"

Harry turned - Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum - the three of them started across the clearing - but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.

"GET DOWN!"

The three of them were seized and down onto the ground.

"STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices - there was a blinding series of flashes and Harry felt the hair on his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising his head a fraction of an inch he saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards' wands, and being deflected of a transparent blue dome surrounding them.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6, Panic

"Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. "STOP! That's my son!"

Harry's hair stopped blowing about. He raised his head a little higher. The wizards around him still had there wands ready, but next to him wand raised was Tiberius eyeing of the surrounding wizards. Harry rolled over and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward them, looking terrified.

"Ron - Harry" - his voice sounded shaky - "Hermione - are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice. It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Harry got to his feet to face them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage.

"Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" said Harry, gesturing up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "What did you want to attack us for?"

"Do not lie to me, boy!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping - he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Is it not blatantly obvious to you that these three are totally incapable of producing this kind of magic?" Spat Tiberius at a glaring Mr. Crouch.

"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woollen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to

"Where did the Mark come from, you three?" said Mr. Weasley quickly.

"Over there," said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees. . . they shouted words – an incantation -"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -"

But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione's words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

"You're too late, there not here." Tiberius said shaking his head exasperated.

"I don't think so," said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our Stunners went right through those trees. . . . There's a good chance we got them. . .

Suddenly there was another pop and the two other Corbin brothers strode up to their younger brother ignoring the ministry officials.

"Any luck?" asked Tiberius.

"Cornered about half a dozen in the chase, apparated before we could place a tracing charm." said Octavian the middle brother.

"No luck finding them or any of the others within a 15 mile radius." added Alexander.

"Might I ask who you three are?" asked Mr. Crouch.

"No you may not." said Tiberius off handily. "Oh and I believe this is yours" he said handing Harry his wand smiling. "Found it in the trees on my way in."

"Thanks… for everything" said Harry.

"Anytime." said Tiberius.

"Come on, you three," Mr. Weasley said quietly. But everyone seemed a bit to dazed to take any notice. "Come on!" Mr. Weasley said, more urgently, and they turned to follow Mr Weasley out of the clearing and off through the trees.

"What happened to the others?" asked Tiberius.

"We lost them in the dark," said Ron. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?"

"I'll explain everything back at the tent," said Mr. Weasley tensely.

He led Harry, Ron, and Hermione through the crowd and back into the campsite.

All was quiet now; there was no sign of the masked wizards, though several ruined tents were still smoking.

Charlie's head was poking out of the boys' tent.

"Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others -"

"I've got them here," said Mr. Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered after him.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bed sheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt and a bloody nose. Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.

"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?".

"No," said Mr. Weasley. "We couldn't find anything."

"Who're they?" asked Percy gesturing to the three brothers.

"You're a very polite person are you?" said Tiberius.

"I'm not the one barging into someone else tent unannounced." said Percy.

"Strange to see the only one talking big is the only one without blood on his shirt." smirked Tiberius. "Are you guys all right?" he asked the rest of the Weasleys.

"We'll live." said Charlie, although the wincing and tremors didn't too much to sell the statement.

"Milady I'd be more than happy to accompany you to your chambers should you have any nightmares" said Tiberius smiling at a scarlet faced Ginny.

"What happened out there?" coughed Mr Weasley trying to change the subject.

Between from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Mr. Weasley was explained everything that had happened in the woods. When they had finished their story, Percy was still swelling indignantly.

"That still doesn't explain these three" he stammered.

"We're simply her to ensure nothing happened to a woman of such beauty" said Tiberius winking at Hermione.

"And what about us?" asked Harry.

"You were just lucky enough to be in close proximity." laughed Tiberius.

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone. . . . Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," said Mr. Weasley quietly. "Of course people panicked… it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean… it's still only a shape in the sky. . .

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Mr. Weasley. "The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside. . . ." Mr. Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear… the very worst..

There was silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut and said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Roberts's before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," said Bill. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight - the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Mr. Weasley. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" said Ron suddenly. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

"But what were Voldemort's supporters -" Harry began. Everybody flinched – like most of the wizarding world. The Weasleys always avoided saying Voldemort's name. but then he noticed that the Corbin Brothers didn't wince their eyes just seemed to grow several hades darker. "Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"

"The point?" said Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished disgustedly.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" said Ron. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," said Bill. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives. . . . I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"

"So. . . whoever conjured the Dark Mark. . ." said Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. "But I'll tell you this... it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now. . Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

"Mind if we tag along? Figured you'd be in need of a bit more help putting this thing away after this morning" Tiberius asked Mr Weasley.

"Why not." said Mr Weasley. "And thank you for keeping this three out of harm's way".

"I get the feeling it's gonna be these three keeping these three keeping me out of harm's at some point." said Tiberius as he left following his older brother's.

"Oh and Mademoiselle's" said Tiberius grabbing Hermione and Ginny's attention. "Should you be in need of any affection to distract you of the day's detriments? You have only to ask." He said smiling as he walk out of the tent.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7, Revelations

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand.

"Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried-"

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Harry saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at them all with red eyes, "you're alive. . . . Oh boys. .

And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

"Ouch! Mum - you're strangling us -"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough OW.L.s? Oh Fred. . . George. .

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says. And you boy's would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" he added to the three Brothers.

"It would be our pleasure" said Tiberius smiling.

Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Ministry blunders... culprits not apprehended… lax security... Dark wizards running unchecked... national disgrace... Who wrote this? Ah... of course... Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -"

"Do us a favour, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up."

"Thank you William" said Tiberius.

"Any time" said Bill smiling.

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, unable to contain himself, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No...no, there hasn't been any post at all."

Ron and Hermione looked curiously at Harry and sent a meaningful look at both of them, something Tiberius didn't miss.

"Mrs Weasley. Ronald wouldn't by any chance be able to give the grand tour would he?" ask Tiberius.

"Oh of course not dear…wait, who might you be?" asked Mrs Weasley.

"Oh my apologies Mrs Weasley, my name is Tiberius these are my Brothers Alexander and Octavian. We meet you wonderful husband and children while looking for the port key and seemed to be nearby ever since. If we must leave before he comes back please give him our utmost thanks for inviting us in for tea, and in such a lovely home at that. Please, I'd love for you son to show me more." said Tiberius to Mrs Weasley.

"Oh of course dear, Ron please give or guest a tour of the house." said Mrs Weasley.

"Ok mum." said Ron begrudgingly.

Tiberius shoot a look at Harry saying "get your ass up!"

"Yeah... think I will too," said Harry at once. "Hermione?"

"Yes," she said quickly, and the four of them marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"So where would you like to see first?" asked Ron quit melodramatically.

"The attic should suffice" replied Tiberius.

"Monsieur Black sends his regards." said Tiberius, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them.

"What?" exclaimed Harry.

"Your God Farther, he speaks often of you. Quite fondly I might add." said Tiberius

"How do you know Sirius?" asked Harry.

"Dumbledore asks me to check up on him every now and then. You know food, water maybe a flee bath if he's feeling lucky" laughed Tiberius.

"You know Dumbledore?" asked Hermione.

"I should hope so he's my God Farther." said Tiberius. "Regardless, both told me to keep the three of you safe…well as safe as things get when it comes to the three of you." He laughed.

"So Harry what's troubling you" asked Tiberius.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Ron's and Hermione's reactions were almost exactly as Harry had imagined them back in his bedroom on Privet Drive. Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looked dumbstruck. Tiberius simply stood there contemplatively, staring at the ground with his hand on his chin.

"But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him… him and Peter - you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill...someone."

He had teetered for a moment on the verge of saying "me," but couldn't bring himself to make Hermione look any more horrified than she already did.

"It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it? My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"They weren't after you Harry." said Tiberius. "If you were the target why would he make his move on the largest social event in the wizarding world, it doesn't make any sense. But they were making a statement, and your dream has something to do with whatever Voldemort's planning.

"Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth.

"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?" Professor Trelawney was their Divination teacher at Hogwarts. Hermione's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort.

"Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," said Harry. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again… greater and more terrible than ever before… and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him. . . and that night Wormtail escaped."

"So that means according to your dream Pettigrew has made it back to You-Know-Who by now." said Tiberius.

There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absentmindedly with a hole in his old Chudley Cannons bedspread.

"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"

"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry. "But we don't know where Sirius is… he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he?" said Hermione reasonably. "Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."

"I'd doubt Sirius would send his response through Hedwig" said Tiberius.

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Because he's not that stupid… The entire ministry will be looking for leads after what happened and do you really think they won't check the quite famous Harry Potters quite 'hard to miss' Owl?" responded Tiberius.

Harry had a leaden feeling in his stomach as he looked out of the window at the Hedwig-free sky.

"Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry" said Ron. "Come on - three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play… You can try out the Wronski Feint..."

"Ron," said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now... He's worried, and he's tired... We all need to go to bed..."

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt."

"Well as I detest Quidditch I think it may be best that I make my leave. I'll be seeing the three of you very soon" said Tiberius as he walked down form the attic.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8, Trains

"Weasley… what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the mouldy lace cuff very obvious.

Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety…"

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same colour as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.

"So... going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know… you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won…"

"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.

'Are you going to enter?' Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.

A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face

"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago… heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry… Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley… yes…they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him…"

"I would strongly advise you shut your putrid puss filled orifice immediately!" suddenly Tiberius appeared behind Malfoy and his two brutes.

"Who the hell are you?" asked Malfoy turning around.

"I'm tall, dark and handsome, looking down at a pasty rat faced one, with his lard filled bodyguards, strongly advising him too make himself scarce." said a smirking Tiberius.

"I think you might be a bit confused about how this works. There's three of us and one of you." said Malfoy.

"Yeah so why don't you run back to your snake pit and make this a fair fight." said Tiberius as he drew his wand.

Eyeing his wand Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.

Tiberius glared at the trio as the left the compartment and shut the door as he walked in.

"Well… making it look like he knows everything and we don't…" Ron snarled. "Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry…Dad could've got a promotion any time... he just likes it where he is…"

"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -"

"Him! Get to me? As if!" said Ron picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.

"So… I'm gonna assume you have no idea why I'm here?" asked Tiberius.

"Actual we just got used to you showing up unannounced." said Harry.

"Well in that case I might as well make myself comfortable." said Tiberius as he sat down opposite Harry.

"Now no one outside you three and now those three knows I'm here. So… how long do I have until there's a crowd outside that door?" asked Tiberius.

"With Malfoys mouth you probably have less than a minute." said Hermione.

"I guess I'm gonna have to make this quick. Let's just say the hallways will feel a little more crowded this year and you might want to practice your box step." Said a smirking Tiberius eyeing Ron's dress robs.

"What is going on?" asked Harry, as murmurs could be heard from behind the door.

"Best make myself scarce, don't worry everything will become clear when you get to the castle" said Tiberius opening the window.

"What on earth are you doing?" asked Hermione

Tiberius grabbed the roof of the train outside the window. He stepped outside and looked back at Hermione "au revoir belle" smiled Tiberius as he let go falling out of view.

The trio ran to the window but Tiberius was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you think he'd be able to make a less arrogant exit" said Ron.

"Well at least he gave Malfoy an earful." said Harry.

Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid.

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione fervently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages stood waiting for them outside the station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9, Tables**

Harry looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was another empty chair too, and Harry couldn't think who else was missing.

But what he found more interesting were the seats added. The Corbin brothers were seated at the teachers table. Tiberius leaning over the empty chair left for Professor McGonagall engaging in a very animated conversation with Dumbledore.

"What'd you think they're doing up there?" said Hermione, who was also looking up at the teachers.

"Maybe they're the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers?" said Harry.

They had never yet had a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Harry's favourite by far had been Professor Lupin, who had resigned last year. He looked up and down the staff table and they were defiantly the only new faces.

"I'd doubt it, the annoying one doesn't look older than a 6th year." said Ron.

"True, maybe they couldn't get anyone!" said Hermione, looking anxious.

Harry scanned the table more carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway grey hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On the other side of the Headmasters chair was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape - Harry's least favourite person at Hogwarts. Harry's loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape's hatred of him, a hatred which had, if possible, intensified last year, when Harry had helped Sirius escape right under Snape's overlarge nose - Snape and Sirius had been enemies since their own school days.

To Snaps sides sat one empty chair, which Harry guessed was Hagrid and to his other sat the three Brothers. In the very centre of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, in deep conversation with Tiberius, they both began staring up at the ceiling through as though lost in thought. Harry glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and he had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

Harry didn't really pay much attention to the sorting he was busy following his mind elsewhere.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered," ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -" But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening. One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark grey hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

The youngest of the Corbin's looked upon the stranger sceptically. There was a stark contrast between the strangers piercing blue and Tiberius' burning gold.

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said

Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."


	10. Update

**Attention Readers!**

If you're a fan of this story and I honestly don't know if there even are any, I'm yet to read any reviews or check any follows. I'm just notifying you that I know it's been a while since my last update and rest assured chapter 10 is almost complete. It's been proving difficult to finish in a structure that fits my desired time and pacing (I might end up cutting a page from the book and inserting a Tiberius smirks line every now and then). This is just an update letting you know that my updates for this story may be interrupted further, I'm currently witting an Avatar: The Last Air Bender fic and a Game of Thrones fic that have taken a lot of my focus away from this story. But it will continue and be completed and I hope to continue it all the way through the rest of the books. My other two fics will be posted either when this one is finished or when I feel they're long enough to not have two long a wait between chapters. In regards to my comments about not reading any reviews I promise you I will, when this story is completed before I start writing for The Order of the Phoenix equivalent. I just want to be able to make all the mistakes I can with this fic being the first piece of original fiction I've ever written, so I want to have as big a learning curve as possible. Please still write reviews if you have something valid to say and I promise I will read them, all of them.


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